As the presidente of Norogachic is an honourable man and speaks the native language, he exercised great influence over them, and on one occasion, when they had gathered in large numbers and threatened to avenge some abuse, he was able to avert disaster. Nature had endowed him with the doubtful blessing of bloodshot eyes, a feature generally attributed to powerful sorcerers, and this was perhaps more a point in his favour than otherwise with the Indians.
One day he took us to the top of a hill where there were some stones set in circles, about one foot above and half a foot under the ground. They reminded us of similar stone arrangements we had come upon in Sonora, but these were larger and more primitive. Altogether there were nine circles, varying in size from nine to thirteen feet in diameter. One, however, measured only five feet across, and the stones forming it were fully two feet above the ground. Close by was another similar small circle, and some little distance off still another. On a small mesa I found a flint arrow-point. There were also some potsherds there, but of the same kind as those used by the people of to-day.
The natives rightly count only three seasons—the dry, the rainy, and the winter. The first lasts from March till June, and is very warm and windy. Throughout July and August one can generally count on thunder-storms and heavy rains, while the mornings are bright. The rains then rarely extend over a large territory, but are confined to local showers, a circumstance very annoying to the agricultural inhabitants, who often see dark clouds rolling up, apparently full of moisture, yet resulting in nothing but gusts of wind. A ridge may change the course of the clouds. Sometimes one valley may be flooded with rain, while not far away the heat is drying up everything. During September and October more constant rains occur, and may last more or less for a week at a time.
Pecking on Rock in the Neighbourhood of Norogachic.
In the beginning of the wet season (July and August) the rains come from the south-west, but later on north-eastern winds bring rain. In winter there are constant winds from the south-east to the north, somewhat trying until one gets used to them. Snow is by no means unknown, and Indians have been known to freeze to death when caught out intoxicated.
The climate in the sierra, although not so pleasant on account of the constant winds, is extremely salubrious, the heat never exceeding 97° F., while the nights are deliciously cool. Lung diseases are here unknown. When I asked an old American doctor in Guadalupe y Calvo about his experience in regard to the health of the people, he said, “Well, here in the mountains they are distressingly healthy. Despite a complete defiance of every sanitary arrangement, with the graveyards, the sewers, and a tannery at the river’s edge, no diseases originate here. When cholera reached the mountains some years ago, nobody died from it. The people simply took a bath in Mexican fashion, and recovered.” Down in the barrancas, however, where the heat often becomes excessive, the climate is far from healthy, and I have seen even Indians ill with fever and ague, contracted generally during the rainy season.
Between these two extremes, on the slopes of the sierra, toward the warm country, at an elevation of 5,000 feet, I found the most delightful climate I ever knew. It was like eternal spring, the air pure and the temperature remarkably even. There is a story of a Mexican woman, who, settling in this part of the country, broke her thermometer because the mercury never moved and she therefore concluded that it was out of order. The pleasantness of the climate struck me particularly on one occasion, after a prolonged stay in the invigorating though windy climate of the sierra. I had caught a cold the night before, and was not feeling very well as I dozed on the back of my mule while it worked its way down the mountain-side, but the sleep and the delightful balmy air made me soon feel well again. At times a mild zephyr played around us, but invariably died out about sunset. The night was delightfully calm, toward morning turning slightly cooler, and there was nothing to disturb my sleep under a big fig-tree but the bits of figs that were thrown down by the multitudes of bats in its branches. They were gorging themselves on the fruit, just as we had done the afternoon before.
Winter Morning in the Sierra.